JEANNE DU BARRY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10536, 10 August 1912, Page 1

JEANNE DU BARRY.

The Milliner's Aasistant Who ; Bscama Franco's TLiQro'Wsed Queen (" Pearson's Weekly.") In old Paris many years ago a little girl hawked sham jewellery from a wooden tray. She was very, very poor. Her entire stock in trade was worth perhaps , three shillings. Her earnings rarely exceeded more than a few pence a day. On her feet were neither shoes nor stockings. Her few rags of clothing scarcely sufficed to ocver her decentlyAli the day long, and often far into tne night, she tramped the cold street*, selling her wares to whoever would buy them. When she had disposed of her whole trayful, and not till then, the little Jeanne—for that was her name —was free to crawl home to the garret she shared with her mother. From these pitiful surroundings she was rescued after a while by a certain Madame Labilie, who kept a large millinery establishment in the fashionable Hue St Honore.' She had stood one day in the gutter outside the shop with her tray, and Madame's sharp eyes had noted the wondrous, weird beauty of the little street-seller. She had sent an assistant outside to call her in, and had takled with her, and in the end she had taken her into her employ. PRETTY FACE 3 TO ATTRACT THE BOYS. In acting thus, however, 'Madame Labilie was not altogether disinterested. It was her rule to engage pretty assistants, the prettier the better. For they attracted to her 6hop scores upon . scores of gilded Parisian youths, who bought expensive lace ruffles, costly cravats, and other similar articles, of which they probably stood in no immediate need, the while they ogled amourously the dainty misses behind the polished mahogany counters. And in little Jeanne, Riadame's experienced eyes had detected a decoy bird of ,'io ordinary type. Nor did her enterprise go unrewarded. For some two years the ex-hawker of sham jewellery served her faithfully and well, drawing much custom, causing many heartburnings. Then, when che was approaching her sixteenth birthday, an adventure befel her that resulted in *her leaving the Lel>ill<? establishment, and which in the -end launched her upon tf career of gilded sin that was destined to lead her to the very steps of the thorne of Franco itself, a publicly acknowledged, if uncrowned, and eventually to the tumbril and the guillotine. .Jeanne fell in love, the unconsciou? object of her waywrrd fancy being none other than a young gentleman who occupied a bachelor apartment on the fourth floor of the same building in which was situated the shop wherein she was employed. JEA-VNE'S WAT OF MAKING FRIENDS. Unable to attract his attention personally, for he was not a customer, Jeanne adopted the unusual expedient of sketching her portrait in colours and pinning it to the door of his flat. 1 The young man was flattered, the more so that the sketch, though roughly drawii ; rtvealed nevertheless a face of exquisite beauty. Guessing that tho original of the portrait might possibly be found amongst the young ladies m the shop below, he ms.de a tour of tho LaLille establishment, going from showroom to showroom, until at length he discovered ihe objoct of his searchThe rest was easy. The young man said nothing there or then, but that night he pinned the portrait on the door once more, with the message written underneath: "When will my little painter come to see me?"

Then he went to bed, and the next morning there appealed, greatly to his delight, the simply reply: "Your little painter will breakfast with you tomorrow morning -at nine o'clock; leave the door ajar." Needless to tell in detail the outcome of an acquaintance thus irregularly and romantically begun between two persons of the opposite sex, a:ad occuying totally different social jwsftions. Suffice it to say that the young man, v/hose name, by the way, was Duval, became Jeanne's first lover; though not her last, by any means. At length she was taken in hand by a certain Count Du Barry, a man of vast wealth, but of infamous reputation, whose name she assumed and by whom she was introduced to the King of France, Louis %V., whose favourite she became.

For the first few months of her " reign," Jeanne was exceedingly unpopular. But her good nature and happy disposition soon gained her hosts of friends.

She lowd to dispense favours, to see .•iround her bright and smiling faces. A pardon, a pension, an appointment -it was all one to Jeanne. If anybody dosiring such could only succeed in obtaining an a'udience with her, they vera pretty sure of getting what they askpd.

Her good nature was never ruffled. She simply could not be made angry. S'-iid the Chief of Police to her "one day: "Madame, we have caught a ras;.al who sings scurrilous songs about you. What shall we do with him " "Make him sing them to you, and tlien giva him something to eat," was Jeanne's ready reply. Madame de Pompadour, her predecessor in the Ki'v/s affections, had sent men to rot and die in the dungeons of the Bastille for less. ON" HER KNEES IX HER NIGHTDRESS. Once Jeanne met a workgirl being

driven through the streets to the place of execution. She had been found guilty of killing her child in a fit of despair. The unhappy captive, catching sight of the Favourite, cried out to her to save her. "You were one of us once, sou know, Madame," she exclaimed, fears streaming down her face. It was not a very apt or flattering remark, but Jeannt understood, and was not offended. She ordered the officer in command of thj escort to wait where he was. and, Hurrying to the King, returned in a minutes with a pardon. In like manner she saved the lives of the Count and Countess of Louesmo, who had been condemned for high treason. Louis had determined to execute thorn, and had proved deaf to the pleading of their only '.laughter. Yet he was unable to resist Jeanne, who quitted her bed at midnight in obedience to the urgent entreaties of this selfsame daughter, and knelt at the King's feet, clad only in her nightdress. Her great fault was her boundless extravagance, and it was remembered against her later. She loved to deck herself with well-nigh priceless jewels, to wear costly dresses, to surround herself with ostentation and luxury. Even her kitchen utensils were of gold. WHKN THE KING HAD SMALLPOX. With the death of Louis, from smallpox, Jeanne was banished from Court, and this although she had tenderly nursed the King all through his .last most loathsome iilness, when all others had fled through fear of infection. She took up her residence in Luciennes, where she kept up a seini-royal state for some years. Then came the outbreak of the revolution, the execution of the new King and Queen, the wholesale murders or the old French aristocracy. Yet Jeanne felt no fear, bhe was not an aristocrat, but a daughter of the people. So during all those dreadful months of the Tenor she held her head high, and even. travelled several times backwards and forwards between Paris and London at a time when to be suspected of attempting to leave France was liable to spell death. Moreover, during her last visit to England, she was imprudent enough to dine at a house where Pitt, the British Prime Minister, and incidentally the most hated man in France, was a guest. The spi«"s of the Republio swarmed in London at the time, and the incident was noted by one of them, who reported it to the Committee of Public Safety in Paris. Forthwith Jeanne's death was decided on.

Pitt, alive to her danger, implored her not to return to France, but she laughed at his fears. Three days after landing she was arrested on the usual charge of * "conspiring against the Republic," and with her arrest her fate was sealed.

There was, of course, a mockery of a trial. But her conviction was a foregone conclusion. She was ordered to b© publicly guillotined, the sentence to be carried out within twenty-four hours. The tumbril, a rough cart with straw in the bottom and a plank for a seat, bore her through the streets of Paris to the place of execution. She sat with bowed head, dazed, neither seeing nor hearing. Only when the cart drew up alongside the platform upon which the guillotine was fixed did she awake from her lethargy, and then it was to give vent to a series of most heartrending soreams. The crowds in the Place de Revolution, and the spectators on roofa and at windows, drew back appalled. BROKE AW AT FROM THE EXECUTIONER. They had been accustomed to see the haughty aristocracy of France, men and women alike face the axe w>h contemptuous indifference, but this shrieking, terrified captive was an altogether different matter. For the first time it seemed to strike them that it was a fellow-being—a woman—they were going to kill. A murmur, half of pity-, half of horror, rose from the crowd, above which could be heard the voice of Jeanne imploring, pleading, protesting. Once she broke from the executioner's grasp, and ran lightly to the edge of the scaffold. In another instant she would have leaped over, and in amongst the crowd, when it is impossibl: to say what her fate would have bee: But she was caughv ust in time, and hauled back by the shoulders, her little I

heels making a hideous dragging sound on the rough boards. "Pardon, monsieur I One moment! Yon are hurting me 1" These were her last words. The next instant the axe fell swiftly, and all was over.